


World-losers and World-forsakers

by rivlee



Series: Live Fast, Die Old [11]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crixus and Barca have their own routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World-losers and World-forsakers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts).



> Title and the line Barca quotes from the end are from Arthur O'Shaughnessy's _Ode_.

“Why the fuck do we do this to ourselves?” Crixus wheezed as they started on their fifteenth mile. His lungs were starting to burn in the cool air of the March morning. 

“Because we are old men with significantly younger partners,” Barca said. He grabbed his side and slowed down to a slow jog.

“Significant my ass,” Crixus said. “At least me and Naevia were born in the same decade.”

Barca shoved him and Crixus almost went into one of the benches on the side of the track. The old ladies power walking beside them glared them down and Crixus had to duck behind Barca to hide his laughter. 

Their friendship didn’t start out on the best of terms. Barca was in a bad place when Crixus moved to the city and started working with him as a bouncer. Auctus had just suffered the accident that ended his dancing career; their relationship was imploding as Barca’s studies increased; and life was a general shitshow on most days for Barca. Crixus was a stupid kid with a smart mouth who thought he knew everything. They beat the crap out of each other in a training match at the local gym before finding a common ground. 

Barca reminded Crixus of his older brothers while Crixus got to be part of the family Barca formed around himself. They had twelve years of friendship behind them now which meant there was no hiding anything. Crixus knew he was fucked from the way Barca looked at him now. That was Barca’s _concerned professor_ face. 

“So, Pietros told me you fucked off from our regular appointment to weep over sports heroes with the younger Frei,” Barca said.

Crixus took the water bottle Barca offered and started his cool down. Today wasn’t going to be a twenty mile day; he could already feel it in the muscles of his legs. “The pup has some good insights every now and then. He’s got a fearlessness to things where old men like us cling.”

Barca nodded in agreement. “Did you find a solution?”

Crixus shrugged. “You know any decent tour managers?”

“Nope,” he said as he pulled his hair out of its tie.

“Then no.”

“What of Cousin Frei?” Barca asked as he stretched his legs out.

Crixus stared at him. “Saxa?”

“She could be your substitute tour manager until you decide whether or not to quit your job or hire a full time one. She’s already there as a tech, she has the experience from her time in Germany and the connections. Besides, most people are fucking terrified of her.”

“We’ll see.”

Barca looked at him and shook his head. He stood at his full height and towered over Crixus. “Just remember to ask Naevia first. We don’t want a repeat of the last time you made a life-changing decision without consulting her.”

Hell, break-up, more hell, bad days, life in a bottle for a bit, some really bad general life decisions, before cleaning his act up and becoming the sort of person Naevia deserved in her life. It made Crixus grow-up; made him analyze what he wanted in his life. He got his degree and did his training, his got his job as an assistant coach at the university and teaching self-defense courses, he found stability. He found the person _he_ deserved to become. 

Barca slapped the back of Crixus’ head as if he could see all the thoughts mixed up inside. “Don’t dwell.”

“Yes, Professor Elissa,” he intoned. He pushed and shoved Barca off the track and over to their bags, passing a long a towel to dry some of the sweat from Barca’s face. “After fourteen miles of running I say we screw it all and get a bearclaw.”

Barca flicked his towel at Crixus’ ass with expert precision. “Just don’t tell our students that.”

*********************

_Nightingale_ was pretty mellow for a Saturday morning. Most of the clientele were probably sleeping off the previous night. It was strange to go inside without Naevia there, but she’d taken a vacation down to Raleigh to see Diona give an academic fuck-you-all to a group of researchers. Even so, some things were still usual; Nasir was huddled in Crixus’ booth with his laptop open and two empty cups already at his side; Lucius was grumbling his way through papers and a piece of pie; and there was still a lost tourist thinking this was a fucking Starbucks. He felt horrible for the new girl behind the counter, Sibyl, who looked half-terrified as she explained that they didn’t sell pumpkin spice lattes at all, but especially not in April. 

“There’s one of your soulless corporation crack dealers down the block,” Barca yelled because he never learned manners. 

Crixus just shook his head and scanned the place for Lydon. He was supposed to be covering in Naevia’s place. 

The tourist turned around, surely getting ready to curse Barca out, when he got a good look at all six-feet-four-inches of Barca Jelani Elissa. Crixus did laugh as the guy stumbled over a chair to get out of the door. 

“If only they knew you spent all your free time in secondhand bookstores picking up every Ama Ata Aidoo book you can find to donate to the local schools.”

“Those kids deserve decent literature,” Barca argued. “I can only afford to buy a classroom’s worth once a year.”

“Fucking Beast of Carthage,” Crixus muttered as they approached the counter. “Good morning, Sibyl, I hope things are going well.”

She nodded. “Minus a few assholes.” Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Coach Dufort.”

He waved her concern off. “Call them what they fucking are, Sibyl. Naevia prefers you don’t do it to their faces, but that’s why we keep Lucius around.” He smiled at her. “We’ll take two bearclaws and small black coffees to go.”

“He’ll take a bearclaw and a coffee,” Barca corrected. “I’ll take the one cleaning the back office.”

Sibyl looked at Crixus in confusion before turning to Barca. “Um, he’s not on the menu, sir.”

Barca laughed at her. “Not yours, at least.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Pietros, get your ass out her.”

Pietros peeked his head out from the office. “Ah, if it’s not the sweet sounds of my husband’s voice. You’re supposed to be dying by the track side. Gave up so soon?”

“Old ladies were glaring at us,” Crixus explained. He pulled Barca’s wallet out of his sweatshirt and grabbed enough for their order and a tip. Barca didn’t even blink. They had an understanding and it was his turn.

“Where’s Lydon?” Barca asked as they moved down the counter to wait for their order. 

“Sick,” Pietros said. He mocked coughed. “Apparently vodka is a virus now.”

“A contagious one, I’m sure,” Crixus said. He smiled at Sibyl again when she passed him their pastries and coffee. He patted Barca’s back. “I take it you’ll be staying here.”

Pietros wrinkled his nose. “He’ll be going home, taking a shower, and then coming back with a homemade lunch.”

“You heard your spouse,” Crixus said. He peeled Barca off the counter. “Good luck, Pietros.”

Pietros shrugged. “Who needs luck when I have seven years as a coffeehouse grunt.”

Out on the street Crixus was just about to bite into his bearclaw when Barca tripped him up.

“Do you feel better about yourself now?” he asked.

To anyone else, Barca’s tone would be mocking; to Crixus, he knew it was just how they talked to each other. He got weepy with Duro, pissed off with Agron, in tears of laughter with Varro, but Barca was something of all them combined. 

“Dou you really think Saxa would do it?”

Barca nodded. “She likes being in power; she knows how to be authoritative and responsible when it comes to business and the bottom line. Give her a chance, Crixus. It’ll be good practice for the future when you’re all stay-at-home-dad while Naevia’s off touring the world.”

Crixus lost himself in a vision of that most perfect future. 

“We can dream of it at least,” Crixus said.

Barca slung his arm around Crixus’ shoulders as they shuffled over to the parking deck. “ _We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams_ ,” he quoted. 

“Fuck, Barca, it’s always life lessons and literature with you,” he said amidst their shared laughter. 

Crixus felt a lot lighter now and knew when he called Naevia tonight, he could speak to her with a clear mind and an open heart. He really did have the best fucking family in the world.


End file.
